Times
by a-slightcatchoflightning
Summary: Times change – Lofax: Max struggles with self-esteem issues, only for his partner, Lofty to find him. Will he be too late? TW:/ Depression, Low self-esteem, Suicide mention. Contains strong language.


All day, Max had fucked up. At least, in his mind he had. Dylan had come around the corner at a rate of knots, knocking a pile of files out of his arms and yelled "Why can't you be more careful?!" out of exasperation, before storming on past cubicles, and Louise had joked for the millionth time about how greasy his hair was. "You could fry an egg on that mop" she'd chanted, tugging at a strand of his hair as he walked past with a wheelchair.

At the time, he'd retorted with "Watch it, one day I might" and a cheeky smile, but reflecting on it now, he wished she'd kept quiet about his main insecurity.

After that, he'd tripped up in the staffroom, and everyone must have thought he was a complete idiot. Tripping over his own feet – it was usually Lofty who did that. Ugh he was such a clumsy twerp, not to mention his wheeling a patient into the wrong cubicle where a man was having a prostate examination.

Max turned to his locker, pulling out his favourite burgundy sports jacket, the one Lofty had bought him for his twentieth. He sighed; things were so much better back then.

Times change.

How could he even know if Lofty still liked him? He hadn't texted him all week and every time Max tried to talk to him, he either pushed away or said he was busy. "Catch you later" had become Lofty's favourite catchphrase lately. Shame he never did catch him.

Stepping out into light drizzle and dense cloud did nothing to improve his mood, and he walked home past the pub, a deep weight of sadness pressing down on his shoulders.

When Max reached the flat which he, Robyn and Lofty shared, he unlocked it quietly, realising no one was home and went into the bathroom. It was clearly over between him and Lofty he thought, sitting on the edge of the bath and reaching for the medicine cabinet. Why had Lofty been avoiding him? He'd found his new shyness cute at first, but now he knew he wasn't wanted – why would he be anyway? He was just a fucking waste.

He pulled out an empty box of Prozac and shook it. He already knew there was nothing in there; after he'd finished the first pack, he'd never renewed his prescription: he was enough of a failure as it was; he didn't need to be on medication aswell.

Times Change.

Chucking the empty box in the bin, he reached for a different box, this time aspirin.

Creeping down the hallway, he checked all doorways to make sure no one was there to witness what he was about to do, before stepping into Lofty's room silently. He rubbed the edge of the curtains between his thumb and forefinger hesitantly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out an envelope, placing it gently on the dresser before picking Lofty's uniform hoodie up off the end of the bed and inhaling deeply. The lemony scent filled his head and he remembered a time when he'd nuzzle into Lofty's neck just to pick up that warming scent, the heat radiating onto his head.

Times change.

Allowing his heavy body to drop forward, Max curled up on Lofty's duvet, still holding the hoodie, the packet of aspirin clutched in his left hand. He wanted to spend a few moments with Lofty before he died, and if he couldn't do that, this would be good enough.

Taking deep breaths, Max turned over reaching under the pillow and felt a soft crackling. Gently, he fiddled with the edge, before retrieving it and opening one eye.

A tear escaped.

It was the photo of him and Lofty taken just a week after they got together. They'd been painting the corridor in the flat and lofty had a tiny bit of paint in one of his curls from where Max had gotten a bit enthusiastic and he in turn was painting a stripe across Max's face and over the bridge of his nose. They were both hysterical with laughter, Max half doubled over, his paintbrush dangerously close to Lofty's shirt. It was a candid. David was good at taking those.

Times change.

More tears fell and soon Max was lying flat on his back, staring angrily at the ceiling as they streamed down his face, the photo held to his heart with one hand, the box of aspirin still clutched in the other. Not yet. He'd go when he was ready.

Downstairs, Lofty unlocked the door quietly, being sure not to disturb the cat who was purring contentedly on the doormat.

"Hey Eric" he muttered, absentmindedly running his fingers through the fur above the Tabby's collar, "did Max come home?"

The cat continued to roll around on the doormat, proving to be of no use to Lofty whatsoever. "Thought so" Lofty continued, "there's nowhere else he could be".

Lofty walked softly down the corridor, not wanting to wake Max in case he was asleep. He'd seemed a bit off lately and Lofty hadn't had time to talk to him properly lately, he'd been busy planning a surprise which he hoped would help Max snap out of it.

He turned first into his own room, intending to take the little black box from beneath his bed, but gasped in surprise when he saw Max lying on his bed, holding a box of aspirin, tears pouring out of his blazing eyes. He looked so angry yet so vulnerable.

"Max!" he cried, running to where Max lay.

Max shifted his head slightly, so he could see Lofty. "I'm sorry" he whispered as Lofty snatched the aspirin box and shook it. Several dozen pills still rattled.

"Max! How many did you take!?" Lofty hissed; a sense of urgency filled his voice.

"None." He said. "I didn't want to, I did, but I didn't, it doesn't make sense"

Lofty eased the aspirin box out of Max's hand and reached forward, resting his hand against Max's head and running his hand gently through his hair. "Maxie". Max sighed. "Maxie tell me what's happening in there". He tapped his partner's forehead lightly with two fingers.

"I-I just." He stopped taking a deep breath. "Do you, do you ever, ah". He looked past Lofty and through the window, though Lofty's hand stayed softly stroking Max's fringe. "Many times I lie awake and wonder why I'm still alive, Lofty". Max looked up at him, his eyes pleading him to understand, begging his forgiveness for feeling this way.

"Oh Max" Lofty said, "I love you; I don't want you to die".

"What?" Max asked, bemused at Lofty's last statement "Nobody loves me" he spat, once again removing his gaze from Lofty's face and once again staring at the sky. A blackbird flew past before Max realized Lofty had left. Of course he had, no one liked him, no one could be bothered sticking around with him. Fuck up.

He rolled back onto his back and stared back at the ceiling, refusing his eyes the liberty to blink and feeling the burning sensation. If this was giving up, he gave up a long time ago.

"Maxie?". Lofty's voice broke through Max's barricade. It had been up for so long, but now, hearing that voice he knew so well, something snapped inside of him and he blinked.

"Lofty?" he turned back to face lofty and gasped. He was kneeling by the side of the bed, holding a little square box, inside a plain silver ring rested, "L&M" engraved into the top.

"I love you Maxie, will you marry me?"

Max was lost for speech. All that time he'd thought Lofty had been avoiding him, he'd actually been leading up to this?

"I-I. I- yes!"

With that last word, Max sat up, his hair tousled and smiled at Lofty who slipped the ring lovingly on to his finger, leaning in for a kiss as he did so.

As they pulled apart, both were speechless, smiling straight back at each other, a never ending loop of happiness. "Gotchya!" David cried, as a flash brightened the room for a second, capturing the moment for eternity. Neither of them laughed for a second, both staring at him before Lofty jumped up to grab him, tripping over the bedsheets as he did so. Max spluttered, his straight-face breaking as he helped Lofty up.

"Nope got-YOU" Robyn shouted, grabbing David around the waist and they both walked back down the corridor, laughing as they went.

"Um Lofty". Max looked nervous again. "There's something I haven't told you"

"Yes?" Lofty asked, a serious look returning to his face once more.

"I stopped taking my Prozac – I couldn't face buying them, everyone would see what a - what a fuck-up I am" he looked ashamedly down at the floor, the tips of his ears growing pink and a dejected look flooding over his face.

"You're my boyfriend – fiancé – Max, and if you ever call yourself a fuck-up again, I'll have to prove you're not"

Max smirked, catching Lofty's eye.

"But" Lofty continued, "If it's too difficult for you to buy it, I'll get it for you"

"Really?" Max asked, doubt creeping into his expression.

"Really" Lofty replied.

Times change


End file.
